


Of Grosser Blood

by SylvanWitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghosts or not, they're still guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Grosser Blood

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story, as with all in the series, is taken from the "Harfleur Speech," in Shakespeare's _Henry V_.

Their half-hearted game of “Did you ever?” derails from the get-go.

Dean says, “So I think we should do a check just to make sure we haven’t, you know, uh…shared foxholes with any other…uh, people. Women.” A generic hand-wave fills in the rest of the thought.

Sam says, “I think it was probably only Annie. Unless you knew—”

And that’s as far as he gets before Bobby makes his presence known again, causing Dean to swerve into oncoming traffic.

Once the blaring of the rig’s horn is nothing but an echo and they’ve swallowed their hearts back down out of their throats, Sam is the first to speak.

“Uh, Bobby…yeah, sorry about that. We kind of…forgot…that you were, uh,…listening?”

But Bobby’s already gone back to wherever sulking ghosts blink themselves off to.

By then, the thought has occurred to Dean.

“Do you think—” He starts at a whisper, but Sam cuts him off.

“Why are you whispering?” 

“So he doesn’t hear us.”

“I’m pretty sure he can hear you anyway, Dean.”

“Right. I knew that. I was just—”

“Testing me?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat while Dean considers the possibility that the rotgut is finally making a serious dent in his remaining brain cells. Sam’s impatient sigh brings him back to the subject at hand.

“Do you think he listens to us all the time? Or—”

“Watches us,” Sam whispers, appalled.

“Idjits,” Bobby intones from the back seat, and then “Watch the road!” sharper. 

When the car has settled back into its own lane, he continues. “Don’t flatter yourselves. I don’t spend all my time mooning over you boys. I got better things to do.”

“Such as?”

“Remember that time you left your jacket at the strip joint?”

Dean’s lewd, reminiscent smile is close enough to Bobby’s own that it makes all three of them uncomfortable.

“What _do_ you do when you’re not hanging around us?” Sam asks quickly, for distraction’s sake.

“Oh, you know. This and that.” His caginess is not reassuring.

Sam flicks him a sharp look. “It was you, wasn’t it? You froze my laptop on ‘Mature Mavens of Mayhem,’ didn’t you?”

Bobby’s shrug is eloquently unapologetic. “Man’s got needs. And digital’s way easier to manipulate.”

“If you could do that, why didn’t you send us an email or something?”

“I can’t _type_ ,” he responds scornfully, like Dean is easily dumber than three bags of hammers.

“Then how did you—?” Sam starts, and then abandons it, shaking his head. “Never mind. 

“Look, I think we’re gonna have to set some ground rules about your…haunting,” Dean says in his stern, I-really-mean-it voice.

Twin snorts meet his proclamation.

“No, I mean it. Otherwise, things could get awkward—”

Sam shoots him a look, which he catches out of the corner of his eye.

“—er.”

“Fine,” Bobby concedes, graceless as always. “I won’t haunt you while you jerk off, and you won’t summon me when someone’s watching porn in the room next door. Deal?”

“Deal,” they say in unison.

Bobby flickers out, and there follows a few moments of silence.

Then Sam says, tentatively, “You didn’t know Sally Keppler, at—.”

“Salinger High? Red hair, blue eyes, Guns ‘n’ Roses tattoo on her—.”

“Yeah.”

“No. Never met her.” 

“Good. That’s...good.”


End file.
